


smoke

by honooko



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fire in the heart sends smoke into the head. (German proverb)" Nino loves, but it's worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smoke

His problem was that he loved too much.

Nino had realized it years before. He loved people deeply and painfully, all at once and all together. He crushed in groups and never confessed, because how was he supposed to go about it? "I like you! I also like her, and him, and that kid over there with the stupid-looking sweater."

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

Jun was practicing his dancing; Nino didn’t usually tell Jun things. It wasn’t that they weren’t close; it was just that Jun didn’t talk about himself, and Nino never asked something unless he was sure the question was wanted. With Jun, it usually wasn’t.

 _Nino loved him, though._

Jun was taller now. He was lithe and Nino liked the line of his limbs tapering under his clothes. Sometimes he thought about tracing Jun’s edges with his fingers, but—Nino’s hands weren’t right for tracing. They weren’t right for Jun, they never would be. Jun was so... fragile. Nino was blunt, too blunt.

He usually gave these things up before they started. It still hurt, but it hurt less. Or maybe it just felt less in general; he wasn’t sure.

"Hey," Aiba said, sitting next to him on the floor. Nino reached out for the water bottle in Aiba’s hands; Aiba gave it over without comment. He was watching Nino’s face, studying him. Nino thought it was strange, sometimes, that nobody noticed how closely Aiba was paying attention: he studied almost as much as Nino.

"He’s got that turn now," Nino said. "Maybe he’ll give Sho tips."

"Maybe," Aiba said. Nino closed his eyes; he liked the sound of Aiba’s voice. It was a little rough; it sounded raw, fresh. The tone was the same as ever, but it was deeper now, richer. Aiba gave off the same sort of impression as a young horse; gangly, excitable, _alive_ , and just on the cusp of growing into something beautiful.

 _Nino loved him, too._

"Sho’s got exams next week," Aiba said. They both knew what this meant. Sho didn’t sleep much anymore, but when exams were coming up, he stopped sleeping altogether. It was a group effort to make sure he got food if he was working, that he got rest, that he didn’t completely kill himself trying to be the perfect idol and the perfect son at the same time.

 _And him._

"Nino," Ohno called from across the room, and Nino’s attention flew to him. Ohno always had that effect on him—sudden and jilting, sharp. Nino couldn’t look away from him sometimes. It wasn’t that Ohno was beautiful (he wasn’t, really; Aiba was much more so) but that Ohno was vibrant. Ohno slid in between states of existence: he was either completely focused, burning and intense, or he was spacing out in another world entirely.

 _And of course, him._

At the end of every work day, Nino’s heart hurt from being pulled in so many directions at once. From wanting so much at once. He was eaten up inside by longing and desire to act on the deep and sincere love he had for all four boys he was surrounded by.

It was exhausting and humiliating and he wished that he didn’t, sometimes.

*

Nino walked home, sullen and withdrawn, sure that no matter what he did tonight, it wouldn’t do anything to ease the itch under his skin. He'd spent too much time around the people he loved; or too little. It was hard to tell, sometimes.Video games only did so much before a guy had to accept that he needed an outlet.

He needed a _vice._

He threw himself in a seat at the kitchen table, all clattering elbows and knit brows. His mother looked pointedly at said elbows, and they promptly slid off the tabletop.

"Mom," he said gravely.

"Son," she answered, matching his tone despite clearly being focused on the tray of takoyaki.

"I need a vice," he said. "It’s going to be alcohol, cigarettes, or sex. Pick one."

"You’re sixteen," his mother said blandly.

"Which is why I am giving you, the responsible adult, the choice," he reasoned.

 _Please pick sex, please pick sex, please pick sex,_ he thought. Hey, an excuse is an excuse. Maybe if he worked off some lust, it would ease the ache that hit every time he looked one of his friends in the eye.

"...Cigarettes," his mother announced.

 _Damn it._

"There’s a pack in my purse," his mother said, nodding at her handbag. "Take it. I will give you one pack a week and no more, so if you burn through them it’s your own fault. Do not get caught or so help me, I will disown you."

"Sex is cheaper," Nino muttered darkly, pulling out the pack as instructed.

"At the rate you’ll need to be going at it to count as a vice, it won’t be. You’d be buying condoms in bulk," she pointed out.

After dinner, she taught him how to smoke it properly. It was one of the things he would never admit to loving her for: she never tried to protect him from life. She taught him how to live through it.

"Don’t drink," she warned him as they finished their cigarettes. "Your father did."

Nino stayed out on the porch for another hour after, thinking about all the things his father did, and all the things he should have done, and how at the end of the day, Nino still got confused about whether or not to even say he had a father.

Or whether it was okay for Nino to love four boys, but not the man who helped create him.

*

"Are you doing what I think you’re doing?" Sho asked from the doorway. Nino could only guess how Sho even thought to look for him out the back door; hardly anyone even knew the exit existed. His shoulders hunched, guilty.

"Probably," Nino said, only vaguely trying to hide the cigarette. His mother was going to wring his neck; three days, and he was already caught. By Sho, no less, who was probably going to lecture him within an inch of his life about juvenile criminal records and chain-smokers who had to breathe through tubes sticking out of their throats.

"Oh thank god," Sho said, sitting next to him. "Please tell me you have more."

Nino looked at him. Sho didn't smile; he wasn't joking.

"I expect to be repaid for my generosity," Nino said, handing over the pack. "I’m on rations."

Sho wasted no time in lighting up; Nino watched him inhale. The tip glowed.

"Keio Boy," Nino drawled. "Smoking."

"I haven’t slept in four days," Sho said. "I have earned my piece of teenage rebellion."

"I thought that’s what the navel piercing was for."

"Nah," Sho said, shrugging. "That was just an excuse for bling. My mom wouldn’t let me get grills."

Nino snorted. The very idea of Sho as some sort of hip-hop pimp idol was beyond laughable; it was also adorable that he had, however briefly, tried. Nino felt that twist in his chest that was so familiar.

"Where did you even get these?" Sho asked, lifting his cigarette.

"Have you seen my neighborhood?" Nino asked. "I’m pretty sure I could get a black market kidney down the street, if I really wanted to."

"I wish I was so blessed," Sho said, only half-joking.

Nino looked at him; Sho’s eyes were lined, exhaustion in every set of his jaw and shoulders. He looked like he was awake through sheer iron will, which was probably completely true. He also looked about five minutes away from keeling over stone-cold dead.

"Do you want me to get you some of these?" Nino asked. "A real pack, I mean."

"Could you?" Sho asked, looking so tired and so grateful that Nino wanted to hug him, hard, and promise him that it would all get better soon. But being group mother was Sho's shtick, not his. Not necessarily for lack of trying.

"Take this," he said, pushing his pack into Sho’s hands. "Sleep is better, but you know that."

He kissed Sho on the cheek; it was the best he could do.

*

"I need more cigarettes," Nino told his mother at dinner.

"...A worthy cause?" she asked after a searching glance. She knew him too well.

"I’m almost a drug dealer now," he said. "You should be proud."

"I’ll be proud when you can buy your own smokes," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Nino watched her; she looked tired too. She had every right to be; she worked as much as he did. Some days they only had a few hours together before one or the other had to pick up a shift or get a last-minute interview. The deal was that the first home by seven started dinner; last leaving in the morning did the dishes.

"Mom," he started, but she shook her head.

"I know, Kazu," she said. "I know."

 _He loved her the most. More than his father ever had, that’s for sure._

*

"Here," he said, giving Sho the unopened pack. "Use them well."

*

"Sho said you could hook a guy up," Aiba said brightly at lunch. Nino choked on his rice.

"Sho _told you?_ "

"Well, kind of. I was digging through his bag looking for that manga he borrowed from me last week and I found the pack," Aiba explained.

"And you just… assumed he got it from me?" Nino said, kicking Aiba's shin under the table. He also made a mental note to buy a luggage lock for his bag, if Aiba was making a habit of pawing through other people's things. It was bad enough when he went fishing for snacks in Nino's pants pockets; usually, Nino was still wearing them.

"Where else is he going to get them?" Aiba said. "Ohno hides his in his charcoal pencil box and Jun only smokes when he's totally alone."

"Wait, what makes you think Jun does?" Nino asked, kicking him again. Aiba kicked back and made contact with Nino's kneecap.

"He does that thing," Aiba said. "The twitchy fingertips, you know? You've been doing it too, lately."

"I thought that meant he saw a smudge on the table that was driving him nuts," Nino said, rubbing his knee with a grimace.

"That too," Aiba agreed. "So can you get me some, or not?"

"Get your own," Nino said. "Wear a hat and sunglasses and hit up that dodgy combini near the playground in your neighborhood. You're tall, nobody will card you."

"Have you _seen_ me lie?" Aiba asked. "And if my parents find out, you'll find my mangled corpse hanging from the second story window. My mom still has her boken, I've seen it."

"When the hell did I get volunteered to be everyone's personal dispenser?" Nino growled. "And if you want some, pay up. No freebies."

"Cheapskate."

"Nutjob."

"Good thing you love me, right?" Aiba said brightly, stealing Nino's last umeboshi. Nino couldn't look at Aiba's face when he ate anymore; he was too afraid of getting caught watching Aiba's lips.

 _Unfortunately._

*

"Are you _kidding_?" Nino's mother said the second he walked through the door.

"Should have picked sex," Nino said blandly, handing over the money Aiba paid.

"Should have _drowned you in the bathtub_ ," his mother replied, counting the bills.

"On the plus side," Nino commented, "we could start charging a 'convenience fee' and make a tidy profit on selling tobacco to minors."

"God, and I thought your sister was a nightmare as a teenager," she sighed. "At least she never turned me into a criminal."

"Nah, she just threatened to get knocked up and run away to Hokkaido," Nino reminded her.

"Kazu, if you say another word, I am grounding you for the rest of your life," she warned him.

"You're so unfair! I'm going to have a baby with Satoshi-kun, and then we're running away to Okinawa!"

She swatted him.

"Your friends are very lucky you care so much," she said.

Nino pictured Sho's face, relieved that Nino was willing to help him. He pictured Ohno's pencil box, and how carefully he always opened it. He pictured Aiba, tall and so much more like a man than any of them had managed yet, in some ways. He pictured Jun, huddled in his family's bathroom, guarding his secret.

He had to do this for them. He knew how much they needed it.

"I guess," he said at last.

*

Jun was about to lose it. Everyone could see it; sometimes he just got so wound up, so stuck on the details and making sure everything was absolutely perfect that when the slightest thing was out of place, he just went to pieces.

"How am I supposed to dance in these?!" Jun snapped. "They're too big, they'll fall right off my feet. What if they came off during the kick? It could hurt someone! Did you even bother to check to see what our sizes are!?"

Ohno was moving before Nino even saw him. He took Jun's elbow and pulled him away, _hard_. Jun started to protest, started to turn his frustration on Ohno, but it wasn't going to work. Sho stepped in to apologize to the wardrobe manager and Ohno dragged Jun over to Nino.

"Take him outside," Ohno said quietly, firmly.

"Ohno, what—" Jun started, but Nino had already figured out what Ohno meant. He pulled Jun out a side door that opened onto a quiet alley. Nino dug through his pockets, pulling out a cigarette and handing it to Jun silently.

Jun stared at it, dumbstruck.

"If you don't smoke it, I will," Nino said. "Honestly, I think you need it more right now."

Jun stared at the offered cigarette a moment more before taking it. Nino lit it for him and forced him to sit on the stairs leading away from the door.

"She made a mistake," Jun said quietly, tapping his foot impatiently on the stair.

"People do that," Nino said. "Including you."

Jun didn't answer. He inhaled deeply; Nino watched the smoke curl around his face as he exhaled. The older Jun got, the angrier he seemed. It scared Nino a little sometimes; Jun had been a little touchy as a kid, but never this consuming rage, never this hair trigger he was developing. Nino wasn’t sure where it came from any more than he knew how to stop it. He had some theories, mostly relating to Jun reflecting his own self-doubt and self-criticism on the nearest target, but Jun wasn't really in a frame of mind for them to puzzle it out together.

"You're half right," Nino said. "The shoe coming off and hitting someone would be bad."

Jun glowered.

"But a human error is not a direct insult to you," Nino continued. "She didn't mean to. Going off on her isn't going to magically fix it."

"It's her _job_ ," Jun snarled. "She needs to do it right."

"She's _trying_ , just like you're trying, and I'm trying. We've all got a job here and we're all doing what we can to get it right, but screwing up isn't the end of the world."

Jun looked steadfastly at his knees.

"Jun, nobody here is going to think less of you for a mistake," Nino said at last. "You need to realize that. You need to believe that."

"Do you have any idea," Jun said, weary, "what my father would say if he knew I was smoking?"

"Forget your father," Nino said. It came out more bitter than he'd intended. "He has no right to judge you."

"...Are we still talking about _my_ father?" Jun said. Nino ground his teeth; Jun was too perceptive sometimes.

"It doesn't matter," Nino said. "No one can judge you. No one _is_ judging you. So relax, okay? Just—let yourself be human for half a second before you end up punching a stylist in the throat. I've been told they don't appreciate that."

Jun held out the cigarette, still glowing at the ashy tip.

"Same to you," he said softly, and Nino wished suddenly, painfully, that Jun couldn't read him this well. It felt like if he looked long enough, he'd know all the quiet little secrets that Nino buried in his heart. He'd know how much Nino loved and hurt and how many times he hated himself for being such a coward in the face of all that love.

"Please," he said with a forced grin, taking a draw off the cigarette. "I couldn't be perfection if I tried."

Or, rather: he hadn't been able to be perfection, _when_ he tried

*

Lunch was awkward.

His father only saw him about four times a year, if that. He usually forgot, and Nino didn't bother to remind him. He got the distinct impression that they would both prefer to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

"So," his father said after another long and tense bout of silence. "How's your band?"

"Fine," Nino said. "We start concerts next month."

"Right," he said. Nino poked at his plate with his fork with disinterest. The only reason they were here was because his father was friends with the owner, and their meal was free. Even on the few occasions that they saw each other, Nino was nothing but an inconvenience to him. He also knew for a fact that his father never mentioned his existence; he could tell by the surprise on their faces when he was introduced.

Very few people knew that Ninomiya had a child, let alone a son.

"…Got a girlfriend?" he said. Nino could tell from his voice that he didn't really care to know the answer.

"No," he answered.

His father nodded, and they fell back into silence. They never talked about his mother; they never talked about a lot of things, but particularly his mother. Probably because they both knew how often Nino's father missed his child support payments, or how little he contributed even when he remembered. Or how much debt he'd left her with when they finally divorced for good.

Nino still remembered the terrible year in which his parents were divorced, but still living under the same roof, because neither could afford to live alone. Nino had slept on a futon in the living room while his mother slept in his bed.

He stabbed his salad violently, suddenly filled with all the anger he'd been biting back.

"Mom's been working nights lately," he said. "You missed the past two months."

"That's none of your business," his father said curtly. "It's between… her and I."

The way he said "her", it sounded like a curse. Nino sat up straighter, leaning forward to encroach on his father's space, to get under his skin.

"It is my business," he said. "I'm the one making up the difference when you screw her over."

"Do _not_ speak to me that way," his father hissed. "I am your _father._ "

"Only in the _loosest_ sense of the word," Nino snapped back. He was being rude, he was baiting his father; even as some part of him was telling him to calm down, to stop aggravating the situation, the rest was caught up in all the frustration he'd been trying to vent off for weeks. He couldn't stop himself, no matter how irrational and childish he knew he was being. His father was just _sitting there_ , a trigger, a target.

"We are not going to discuss this here," Ninomiya said firmly.

"Then where will we?" Nino said, his fury building. "The next time you remember to show up? The next time you forget to pay her what you owe?"

His father slammed his hand down on the table; the dishes clattered, and suddenly every eye in the restaurant was fixed firmly on them.

"I should have disowned you," his father spat.

"I wish you had," Nino snarled. He stood, pushing himself away from the table and heading straight for the door. He didn't look back, not even when his father finally called him by his name.

*

Ohno found him on the back steps again; they hadn't run into each other smoking before, but Ohno didn't comment and Nino was left to assume he already knew.

Nino was on his third cigarette; the previous two had been smoked down to the filter, the butts crushed on the cement next to him. Ohno brushed them aside, sitting down on the step with him and pulling out his own cigarette. He lit up and took a long draw, letting the smoke ease out of his chest in one smooth exhale.

"What're you in for?" Nino joked darkly. Ohno laughed.

"Depends," he said. "What're you?"

Nino rolled his cigarette between his fingers. He leaned sideways, his shoulder pressing against Ohno's. Ohno always felt solid when Nino pushed like this; like Nino could put his entire weight behind it, and Ohno wouldn't budge an inch. Ohno didn't strike others as the 'strong and silent' type, but to Nino, he was. Ohno never asked what couldn't be answered; when pushed himself, he never pushed back.

"I had lunch with my father," Nino said finally.

"And you're only on your third?" Ohno said. "How restrained."

"I told him he was a lousy excuse for a dad," Nino said. "I also told him I would have preferred being disowned to our current arrangement."

"Damn," Ohno said. "What'd he do, make you pay for lunch?"

"Every time I see him," Nino said, frowning, "I realize how much he screwed me up. Seriously, my ability to form any sort of meaningful relationship is so warped it's kind of amazing I even _have_ friends."

"It's not forming that's your problem, Nino," Ohno said. "It's breaking them."

Nino stayed quiet, listening. If Ohno was talking, it was worth hearing. He leaned his head on Ohno's shoulder and waited for Ohno to make the world make sense again.

"You're scared, right?" Ohno said. "That if you care, they won't. That they'll leave."

"They might, though," Nino protested.

"They might," Ohno agreed. "But they might not."

Nino finished his cigarette; he snuffed it out on the stair, pulling out his pack and looking at it, trying to decide if it was worth cutting back later in the week to have this one extended moment of calm.

"Would you?" he asked softly.

"Of course not," Ohno chuckled. He rested his cheek on the top of Nino's head; Nino could feel Ohno smile into his hair. "None of us would."

 _Say it._

 _Don't be such a coward._

 _Just say it; he already said it would be okay._

 _Say the damn words!_

"Thanks," Nino said, and wished he wasn't so weak.

*

"What do you want for dinner on Thursday?" his mother asked.

"Um," Nino said, looking up from his gameboy, "…whatever we're having?"

His mother rolled her eyes, and leaned one hip against the counter, crossing her arms and staring at him.

He suddenly felt extremely guilty without knowing why.

"Kazu," she said dryly. "It's your birthday."

"Is it?" he said, surprised.

"Sometimes I worry about you," his mother snorted. "So what do you want?"

"I don't know," he said. "Hamburgers?"

She reached out to ruffle his hair fondly, and Nino felt a surge of affection for her; she remembered, even when he didn't.

That statement applied to a lot of things, really.

"Hamburgers it is, then," she said, smiling.

*

For once, without even trying to, all five of them ended up out the back door to smoke at the same time. Every so often Nino crossed paths with Aiba or Ohno (Ohno most often; he smoked when other people smoked, which was a lot.) But all five on the stairs together? He'd opened the door and been greeted by the sight of all four of his friends, in various stages of lighting up.

Ah, well. First time for everything.

Nino reached into his jacket pocket, but Sho called out.

"Wait," he said, tossing a pack at Nino. "Consider it repayment."

Nino chuckled, opening the pack (the cellophane had already been removed; how considerate) and tapped out a cigarette. As he lifted it to light, his eyes caught a strange edge to the paper.

There was ink. On the inside.

Looking at it more closely, Nino realized there a slip of paper wrapped around the cigarette. He peeled it off, rolling it open.

 **Thank you, for never judging.** It was Sho's handwriting.

Nino stared at it for a moment, before tapping out another cigarette. It had a wrapper too:

 **You say what I need to hear; I really appreciate it.** Jun's.

Another cigarette:

 **You're the best delinquent I know! ^_^** Aiba's.

A fourth:

 **I told you we loved you too.** Ohno's light script.

Nino was sitting now, pulling out each cigarette in the pack. Each one had a note curled around it, written by one of his friends. Each message made his heart pound more, his chest tighten, his eyes sting. He had a pile of cigarettes and notes in his lap, and his fingers were starting to shake as he kept drawing them out, until about halfway through when Ohno caught his wrist and stopped him.

"You don't have to check," he said. "They all do. Save some."

Nino looked up at them all, speechless. He couldn't speak around the ache in his heart, around the love in his throat. He had so many things to thank them for but he couldn't make his mouth work.

"Happy birthday," Aiba said. "We love you lots!"

Nino launched himself at Aiba, the cigarettes spilling out of his lap and down the stairs. It was harder to hug Aiba these days, just because he was getting so tall, but Nino had jumped at the last second and almost knocked Aiba over with the sheer force of his full weight thrown into the hug. Nino wasn't crying, but he did press his face in Aiba's neck, fully aware that he was an embarrassing pink color and his smile would look manic if anyone saw it. He felt Sho reach around, then Ohno worming an arm around his waist, and he could smell Jun's shampoo, so they were definitely all hugging him, all at once, all as tightly as they could without crushing him.

All he could think was that being crushed by this much love was the best feeling in the entire world.

"Thank you," he said weakly. "Thank you."

*

"Did you get laid?" his mother asked when he walked through the door. "You're glowing."

She had no idea why he had started laughing until he couldn't breathe, dizzy from lack of air and so much feeling, with the taste of cigarettes and friendship heavy on his tongue.

"I'm high," he said instead, before bursting into laughter again.


End file.
